


Settling Down, Settling In

by nonplussed



Category: Provost's Dog - Tamora Pierce
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-12-18
Updated: 2011-12-18
Packaged: 2017-10-27 11:37:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/295420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonplussed/pseuds/nonplussed
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A post-Mastiff epilogue, picking up from after the palace day.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Settling Down, Settling In

**Author's Note:**

  * For [spicy_diamond](https://archiveofourown.org/users/spicy_diamond/gifts).



> SPOILERS FOR MASTIFF, SPOILERS LIKE WHOA.

It was a difficult rescue, so Farmer felt no shame in taking a moment just to savor the sweet look of gratitude on Beka's face. After all, the nobles could be relentless, and it'd taken quite a bit of quick, clever talking from him to excuse them both from the very public excitement of the palace.

It was far too brief a moment. Then, his ever-practical Beka decided that since they'd already tackled one difficult task today, they might as well tackle another. Besides, they were already at the palace, it only made sense. It did make sense.

It didn't make leaving Achoo any easier.

“ _Maji_ already, Achoo, don’t be difficult.” Beka sounded stern, but Farmer could see her wavering. As could Achoo, who pulled against her leash to snuffle against Beka’s leg. Farmer saw Beka’s fingers twitch with the urge to reach down and pat her.

The palace handler Lord Gershom had promised them gave Achoo’s leash another careful tug. Achoo whined, which finally made Beka whisper, “Pounce, tell her.”

 _I’ve told her many times, but she still doesn’t like to be parted with you for so long._

Beka crouched until her head was level with Achoo’s. “You want a litter of your own, remember? In a day or so, you’ll forget all about me. Now go, Achoo, _maji_.”

Achoo whined again, but when the handler gave her leash another tug, she went. Farmer saw Beka’s shoulders slump a little as she turned to leave, determinedly not looking back.

They hadn't walked far when Pounce stopped abruptly, causing them to stumble around him, causing the crowd to shove against them. Farmer absently patted at his pockets after a particularly pointed bump, and forgot not to be surprised when he found all his belongings intact and in place. Travelling with Beka really was better than any charm against the Rats of Corus.

“Pounce?” Beka asked.

Pounce butted softly against her ankle, like an apology. _It seems I must leave as well._

“You’re leaving? Why?” Beka demanded, ignoring the strange looks from passers-by.

 _The Gods have called for me again. They can be very long-winded, I’ve found. Don’t worry; I’ll be back soon._

And just like that, Pounce disappeared. Beka stared at the empty spot where Pounce had been, her back a rigid line. Farmer thought it looked like an invitation for a massage, but she wouldn’t appreciate that in public.

He put on his best smile, and reached for her hand instead. “Come, dear one, there’s something I’d like you to see.”

***

Farmer brought her to his new home.

“ _Our_ home, dearest,” Farmer said, and kissed her cheek right in the street. Beka tried to scowl, but her lips kept twitching upwards.

The house was far finer than anything Beka had ever imagined for herself, yet still simple, comfortable. It reminded her of Goodwin’s home somehow.

“…not the finest place, but it’ll do, don’t you think?” Farmer leaned out of the kitchen with a hopeful smile.

Beka blinked. The air, she realised, was fresh and sweet; someone had hung up flower sachets like the best kind of invitation.

Farmer disappeared into another room, his voice trailing off behind him. A little while later, he leaned out from another room. “…coat of paint? And definitely some spy holes for the doors.”

Beka blinked again. This was going to be her home? The walls were bright and the floors were clean. It was small enough to be cosy, though not nearly small enough to stifle. There were more rooms than two people would need; maybe one day… she cut that line of thought right off.

This was going to be her home?

Farmer tilted his head, then came back to her, smiling his biggest looby grin. “But of course, this house could never be fine enough for you. You know I’d build a house of stars and magical silks for us, if you only asked it of me. And it wouldn’t cost a copper, so you wouldn’t even have cause to scowl at me. Like so.”

Beka felt her grasp on the scowl slipping. “You’re being silly again.”

“Ah, so she hears me after all!” Farmer’s smile softened. “Is the house to your liking, then? It truly doesn’t matter if it isn’t, we can always just find someplace else. It's your house too, Beka.”

“It…it’s perfect. Truly,” she added, when Farmer raised an eyebrow.

“So what is making you stand still as a statue not two steps inside the door? Not that you don’t make a beautiful statue, dearest, but maybe stand next to the stairs? You block the entrance, over here.”

She didn’t know how to explain this feeling, like her heart had expanded so much that it seemed to have lodged in her throat, blocking her airways. “It’s only…it’s a long way from Mutt Piddle Lane.”

The eager curve of Farmer's mouth eased into seriousness, his smile fading until it only lingered in his eyes. It was an expression Beka was learning to pay attention to. “You’ve come a long way from Mutt Piddle Lane, Cooper the Mastiff. You like to say you were only doing your duty. But there was no only in you doing your duty, Beka. And I know you had help,” Farmer added when Beka tried to protest, “but it doesn’t make the things you did any less great. I know. I was there.”

Beka blinked hard, and shoved at him half-heartedly. “Don’t you start calling me that, whatever they say.”

“Of course not. I’m a Cooper now, or I will be when we’re finally married at All Hallow. People will think I’m right strange, talking myself up like that.”

“They already think you’re strange.” Beka said tartly, but the light of day betrayed the blush on her cheeks. Farmer leaned in to kiss her, long and slow, and it seemed her heart could expand even more, after all.

***

It was near suppertime when they gathered themselves up to head toward the Dancing Dove.

“Cooper the Mastiff!” The cheer went up when Beka stepped in, which made her scowl and glare at the room, to no avail. Farmer made his way to the stairs easily enough, but Beka might as well have been wading through waist-deep muck, at the speed she was going. It seemed every person here had been at the palace, or at least wanted to bend her ear about it.

Farmer only leaned on the railing and grinned, his pose all patience. She glared when she caught sight of him, which only made him grin harder. They merely wanted to sing her praises, after all. Or at least to tease her about the praises being sung about her. The truly good Dogs were always well-liked by Rats. It was probably one part grudging respect, one part honeying up, and one part keeping enemies close. Definitely something Beka should get more used to.

She looked relieved to finally make it up the stairs to the breakfast room. He still hadn't stopped grinning. She shoved at him as she passed; fair punishment for leaving her alone in a crowd of her admirers.

She opened the door, only to be faced by another rousing cry of “Cooper the Mastiff!” this one led by Rosto. Beka twitched, and he could tell just by looking at her back that she was scowling again.

So Farmer cut in with his best humble voice. “Thank you all, that’s right flattering, but me ma always says that men are two praises away from getting a swelled head, and given my druthers I’d like to have a head that fits into doors.” He put his hand on the small of her back, and felt her steel-straight posture ease a little.

“What are you on about this time?” Kora asked, amused.

“Ah, yes. We’ve all heard about you asking to be called Farmer Cooper before all of Corus this afternoon. What’s that about, then?” Rosto asked, eyebrow raised.

Beka blushed. Farmer felt his smile growing.

“Oh. Oh my!” Kora laughed, getting it first. Then Ersken laughed. Around the table, faces lit one by one in understanding. Still, Rosto looked steadily at Beka, waiting for her to speak.

“We’re to be married, on All Hallow. Farmer wants to take my name.” Right on cue, he felt himself smile uncontrollably. He’d been smiling so much lately, his cheeks were already aching.

“That’s quick,” said Rosto, amidst the hugs and congratulations, his smile an easy courtesy. “And I’ve never heard of a man taking a mot’s name.”

“Not so quick,” Farmer replied. “And it’s a fine name. Far finer than any I’ve had.”

“Have you two any plans yet, then?” Aniki asked, with a studied calm, once everyone settled down to have a proper go at supper. Kora visibly perked up.

“Well, nothing other than the date.” Beka said. Kora perked up even more.

“Of course, Farmer’s only just proposed,” Ersken said, eyes gleaming.

Farmer nodded. “Yes, so nothing’s settled yet—”

“Don’t encourage them, now.” Rosto shook his head, and stole a fritter from under Farmer’s reaching hand.

“You’ll be glad for help though, won’t you?” Kora asked Beka, leaning across the table in her eagerness. “You haven’t any ideas for the wedding yet, have you?”

“So long as we're married—”

“Well!” Kora clapped her hands once, suddenly all business. “That’s great, because I’ve always thought…”

“Oh dear, even I know better than to say that,” Aniki murmured, shaking her head at Beka’s dawning chagrin.

Farmer couldn’t help but reach for Beka’s hands. “I also wouldn’t mind, so long as we're married by the end of it, even if we were to be married in the middle of the Nightmarket, standing on a platform strewn with rose petals, with the best flutists hired from all over Tortall playing behind us. I’ll even make your dress by hand. With threads of gold.”

“Is this before or after you’ve remade your mage kit?” Beka asked tartly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ersken wince and cast a sharp look at Kora, then back at Farmer.

Rosto sat up a little straighter, pausing as he reached for the last—last! Where had they all gone?—fritter. Farmer considered intercepting him, but that would have meant letting go of Beka’s hands. “What need have I of a mage kit, when I have the immense magic of your love?”

“You sound like a copper-bit play.” She rolled her eyes, but there was colour rising in her cheeks. It was delightful how easily she blushed. He’d compare it to roses blooming, but she’d just roll her eyes at him again.

“That’s not entirely inaccurate, actually,” said Kora, leaning her head on Ersken’s shoulder. “There’s a type of magic that fuels itself from outside sources, he could very well mean that, right Farmer?”

“Oh, wild magic! You mean wild magic?” Rosto had, surprisingly, left the last fritter untouched, and Farmer made a hasty grab for it as he turned eagerly to Kora.

“Right, yes! And wild magic with emotions isn’t unheard of.”

“You’re talking about the Chixin mythologies, right?”

“Yes! You’ve heard of the Jindazhen theories, haven't you?”

It was always easy to lose himself in light-hearted discussion about magic with Kora. When he next turned to Beka, he saw her leaning on one hand, properly relaxed. Meals in this room loosened her shoulders; perhaps they reminded her of easier times, from before.

Then Beka turned to a small space between Ersken and Aniki, mouth open to make a remark, and she stiffened right up again.

Perhaps being reminded of old times wasn’t always good, when it reminded her of those who were here then, but weren't here now.

He grabbed a tart and held it out to her. “More tarts? They’re delicious! Perhaps I’ll go back to researching culinary spells again. Wild magic and dust spinners is all well and good, but that's nothing to the power of a well-made fruit tart, right?” She relaxed again, as though his voice was a soothing melody.

Then she smiled and took a bite of the tart right out of his hand, and his heart skipped a beat.

“If you—” Three hurried knocks on the door cut them off, and the door opened to reveal Bold Brian's too serious face.

“Aniki, Kora, you’ll want to come with me, I think.”

Aniki grimaced. “Is it about the ship?”

“Not just that, but. Well. Also the...the date.”

Kora winced, and exchanged a loaded glance with Aniki. “Are…tempers a little volatile?”

"More than a little. Almost explosive, you could say."

A few more incomprehensible half-sentences later, Aniki and Kora both rose gracefully to their feet. Bold Brian bid them all a cheerful, if hurried, farewell, and closed the door behind himself.

“Well, we can’t stay,” Aniki said easily.

“Until next time, as always, Farmer.” Kora leaned to kiss Ersken on the cheek. “Don’t wait up tonight, sweet.”

“Stay safe,” Ersken said, and the girls walked out the door.

“Will they be back in time for breakfast tomorrow, do you think?” Farmer smiled at no one in particular, “I’ve a craving for Garnett’s orange patties, and Aniki’s said she likes them too.”

“They might be, or they might not.”

“I suppose you won’t be expecting Kora anytime tonight, then?” He was pushing it a little, he knew, but the Dog in him couldn’t let it go.

Ersken raised his eyebrows, but only replied evenly, “If she doesn’t say, then I don’t ask. It gives us both peace of mind.”

Farmer smiled, and reached for a fruit tart to buy himself a little time, only to have Rosto snatch it from right under his hand at the last moment. Which was as good a sign as any that he should give that line of thought right up, he supposed. Farmer understood the subtle reproach underneath the almost-friendly food stealing. 

He'd have to try harder to be less of a Dog at the table then. Or Corus would have a fat Rogue. Picturing it almost gave him the giggles. Beka gave him a look, and he put on his best innocent smile. Though judging from her face, he wasn’t fooling her in the least.

***

Beka had always had Evening Watch, Farmer had learned, and so she rarely went home until the later hours of night, even when she didn't have patrol. Instead, she’d take a winding route, visiting the dust spinners. Lately, he’d taken to accompanying her, trying out various spells to learn more about her particular brand of magic. He hadn't learned much yet. Well, at least Beka found his interest amusing.

“I’ve been thinking about it since last time, and there’s something different I want to try. Close your eyes, dearest?”

The face paints for his spell were a brilliant shade of green. She took a long look at them. Then she looked around, assessing how likely people were to come by and gawk. He was careful not to grin until she’d shrugged and closed her eyes. He’d picked Asheea’s quiet corner for a reason.

He dipped his fingers into the paint and quickly sketched the designs onto his face. Then he carefully traced out similar designs over her eyelids, down her cheekbones, curling up to her ears. He wasn’t as good with concoctions as with cloth and thread, but they’d do, for a start.

He took a step back to admire his work, and ended up admiring her upturned face. Gratitude and love felt like a soft, warm thread between them, pulling him in to kiss her, as gently and reverently as he could. “There. You look lovely.”

Her eyes fluttered open. “You always say that.”

“I always mean it. And look,” Farmer added, just to see if he could make her blush more, “tonight, we’re a matching set!”

“We’re always a matching set,” Beka replied gamely, and he felt himself blush to match her. This round was a draw. “I’m going to talk to Asheea now,” she said, taking pity on him.

“Alright, I’m ready.”

She stepped into the dust spinner and assumed her listening pose. It made her look like a painting, a work of art, her face a picture of calm and concentration. The spell lit Asheea in swirls of pale blue to his green-streaked eyes, ribbons of light twining around Beka's wrists, her ankles, her neck like adoring puppies, like the tails of falling stars.

Goddess, he was so smitten with her.

There was a next stage to the spell. He really should get started on that. He reached a hand into his pocket for his ribbon, only to casually pull his hand out when he heard a polite cough behind him.

“Well, you look fancy.” Rosto, of course it would be Rosto. That his dedicated, duty-bound Beka had some of the most powerful Rats in Corus as friends had been a surprise he’d yet to fully get over.

His mouth ran ahead of his brain, as it liked to do when he was startled. “I don’t want to know what you’re doing here at this time of night, do I?”

“Are all Dogs so suspicious? I’ve never given you any cause to be so untrusting, have I?”

“Not yet.”

“Not ever.”

Farmer couldn't help grinning. One had to admire all that blatant confidence; Rosto could make a weather witch doubt the sky was blue if he said firmly enough that it was green. “Of course not,” he agreed easily. “Fine, upstanding citizen like you. You’re such good friends with Beka, and Beka’s such a fine, upstanding Dog.”

“Exactly. It’s always nice to have friends. Useful. Safe.” Rosto’s smile always seemed to him a little like baring teeth.

“Exactly! Useful, safe,” Farmer mimicked, but with a far easier grin. Smiles weren’t meant for baring teeth, he’d always thought; biting was. “And friends sometimes come bearing gifts that come in plenty useful. Like spelled mirrors. So useful for everyone! Or,” he added, once Rosto’s eyebrows could climb no higher, “like orange patties for breakfast. Gifts make everyone happy.”

“You know about the mirror.” Rosto didn’t look the least perturbed, which meant that Kora’s spelled mirror, and its hidden tag, wasn’t his big in into the Dogs’ actions. But of course, the Rogue of Corus surely had better tricks up his sleeves.

But this wasn’t about the Rogue of Corus being friends with a Dog. It was about Rosto being friends with Beka. “She trusts all of you. Which is why the mirror isn’t in the Olorun now tagging fishes. Besides, Beka wouldn’t like having to hobble you, and Kora and Aniki be very disappointed if they had to buy you out of the cages. And I like them.”

Rosto laughed. “Good to know I can count on your goodwill towards them.”

“It’s a very neat piece of spellwork. A right shame to just toss it away, I thought. I’d hear Cassine yell at me for having no eye for art, even from here. If Kora wants any chores done, be sure to talk me up. I’d be glad to do them in exchange for her teaching me things. People are always saying I could do with more learning,” Farmer added, just to see Rosto grin and look away. He always felt better when his opponents didn’t look at him direct; it felt like an edge.

“So that’s it? Beka trusts me, so you do to? And you a mage Dog from Blue Harbor?”

“I’m not a mage Dog like most; given my sorry skills, my sarge would have kicked me out on my arse if I hadn’t walked patrol and done my duty like every other Dog.”

Rosto eyed him with what looked like disbelief. “Does anyone ever buy the looby act off you?”

Farmer let his wide grin fade into something a little more real. “Enough do that I could make a fat purse off it, even if I earned just a copper each. I’d never have to work again.”

Beka chose that moment to step out of Asheea and give them both slightly suspicious looks. “Never work again?”

“I could keep house, couldn’t I? Cook and clean and do the stitching for you. Wouldn’t you like that, dearest?”

When Rosto didn't comment or leave, the look Beka gave him grew more suspicious. Friends, he thought, and took a step away from them, towards home. Their home. “Well, it’s getting late, so we’ll just be leaving, then.” He turned his back on them and ambled off, slowly enough that Beka could have her own conversation with Rosto and still catch up.

***

“So. You trust me?” Rosto asked her bluntly, once Farmer walked out of earshot. Once they got home, she’d have to ask Farmer what they’d talked about.

“Not as far as I can throw you.”

“You’re very strong for a mot.” Rosto nodded solemnly.

“And you’re heavy for a cove,” she retorted.

Rosto grinned, but as Beka turned to go, his expression sobered. “If you don’t trust me, why…” he paused, then waved a hand, as though trying to sketch out all that was between them. “Why eat breakfast with us every morning?”

And she thought this was something they’d worked out ages ago. “Because we’re friends, you great looby. What more reason do I need? And,” she said when Rosto snorted, “you’re good for the Lower City. You’re good for Corus. I don’t trust you, but you’re a rusher and I’m a Dog. It don’t mean I think poorly of you.”

She looked to Farmer, who had turned around again, and was waiting patiently. “I’m going home. Stay out of trouble,” she added, which made Rosto call after her as she went to her man, “when have you ever known me to get in trouble?”

***

Farmer didn't ask what they'd talked about.

He tilted his head curiously when Beka took his hand in hers as they started for home, but hadn't said anything. When she hadn't explained, he had let it go. All the way home, he didn't ask. Through their bedtime routines, he didn't ask.

It only made Beka more glad to tell him...but there was always tomorrow for that, she thought, sleepily throwing a hand over his hip. It wasn't that important, and they always...had tomorrow...

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my lovely betas, Liviania and melodiousb, who kicked this fic's ass out of its awkward tween-hood and into puberty, where you can at least sort of see the fic it's trying to be, if it ever grows out of its remaining awkward and angry sulking. Any remaining mistakes are my own. Thanks, Liviania and melodiousb, for answering my confused and slightly panicked SOS, even though we didn't know each other before! Happy Yuletide!
> 
> The title is hopelessly random--I really should have asked them for suggestions, since they win at everything and would have definitely come up with something better.


End file.
